The delivery girl, Sarah, who brings me my arthritis medication told me to visit this website. Sarah thinks she’s seeing things, a spider ghoul something or other. She lacks conviction. I don’t know. Maybe it’s all just a bad dream. Yadda yadda yadda. What nonsense is this? That’s what They want you to believe. I may be an old retired woman, but I know things. I’ve seen things. I still see Their mental conditioning in action, whether in Sarah’s monster or in my weekly grocery store flyer. Well, this is for anyone who suffers the uncertainty of this collective memory loss. Make no mistake, it is a long-standing plot to use false history to break down the psychological independence of its population by Them! I will not buy that wheat cereal and neither will you! So let’s begin at the beginning, with Castro and a poison milkshake.
Here is a version of the world as you don’t know it, or at least as most of us don’t seem to remember it, but the account below is true historical record.
This amazing revelation – the Truth of my real memories — came crashing back to me one fateful evening in 1978. I was in the Havana Libre Hotel, during the Carter administration. First off, let me say for the record that sweet Jimmy wasn’t the type who would instigate or plot covert attempts on the lives of political leaders. That peanut farmer had a good heart. He was incapable of this. But there are those in the fringes of our government who have simply been dirty pool for as long I got my first full time government job, at age 20. That was before JFK and Dealey Plaza if you’re trying to put a date stamp on my age. By 1978, I had worked my way up the government ladder, as an exceptionally fast typist, note-taker and occasional interpreter for men high up in the State Department.
It was a covert meeting with my boss and President of Cuba, Fidel Castro. He brought us into the hotel’s cafeteria and ordered creamy chocolate milkshakes for everyone. Our government already knew his love for milkshakes was habitual but what we did not know was that he was fully aware that we had apparently sought to exploit this to assassinate him. As we sat there with shakes in front of us, he told us of a kitchen worker that he knew was in possession of a cyanide pill – one provided to him by us (the CIA). He knew the day it was going to happen, how it was going to happen, but he drank it anyway!
As interpreter, I was told to ask him: “Do you believe you are invincible to poison”? He responded that he simply knew that the kitchen worker did not have the guts to drop it into his drink. To accentuate the point, he guzzled back the milkshake currently in front of him and made a big sloppy mess of his beard. He encouraged us all to do the same.
Seeing him kick back that milkshake had a triggering effect, very similar to Dean Martin seeing the Queen of Hearts in the film classic, “The Caligarian Candidate”. I saw flashes of memories, annotating a detailed debriefing from our inside kitchen man. A cyanide pill placed inside of a kitchen freezer. How it stuck frozen to a metal tray. When he went to dose the milkshake with it, the pill crumbled into pieces in his hand!
It was not only the Castro-milkshake incident. I was suddenly flooded with new memories – or more accurately, old memories. New old memories! Repressed memories! Information that perhaps I should not have been privy to! INFORMATION THAT IS ALL CAPITAL LETTERS WORTHY! THAT PROVES AN INSIDIOUS PLOT TO USE FALSE HISTORY TO BREAK DOWN THE PSYCHOLOGICAL INDEPENDENCE OF ITS POPULATION!
And now we must go back even further. 1929. My mother was a progressive woman. She was involved in the suffragette movement, was even part of the Torches of Freedom march. We used to have framed photos of her in the house, cigarette poised in hand, wearing a beautiful, green dress in the Easter Sunday Parade. Through her involvement with this, she befriended a man that we came to know as Dr. E.B Them – I didn’t know what kind of doctor he was (I think his degree was in psychology). Back then, we just called him Bernie. He was the man responsible for introducing her to the ‘pleasures’ of smoking cigarettes, so much so that she quickly became addicted, as one does. She was smoking almost a pack a day.
After some decades, my mother tried everything to quit, but had a difficult time. She sought the advice of Bernie, who introduced her to his colleague, a Dr. Thaddeus Q. They. He was an elderly man with a wine-colored Gorbachev-like birthmark. Rather than on the forehead, it was bandit-like around his eyes, making him look like he was forever ready to rob a bank. Instead, his expertise was in robbing people of memories.
Dr. They had several hypnosis sessions with my mother, some of which I got to observe when she couldn’t find a babysitter. His expertise was in manipulating our mental constructs, and for my mother, this meant presenting her with very colorful, dramatically unpleasant outcomes from smoking; that the act of bringing the cigarette to her lips would give her “furry teeth”. That cigarette smoke “smelled like a skunk’s taint”. That the act of inhaling would leave her mouth so parched that she would collapse from dehydration, die in the desert, leaving vultures to peck her eyes out and her only child (me), alone and orphaned. Dr. They would encourage her to repeat these affirmations, or “pervasive persuasions” as he put it, any time her desire to smoke occurred.
She did quit. But she would eventually die of lung cancer. And I would go on to do temp work as a teenager for Bernie/Dr. Them’s growing public relations firm in Manhattan. Hypnosis for smokers was a mere stepping stone to the powers of Dr. They. I genuinely believe that all this time, They was in cahoots with Them in an on-going secret conspiracy in both private and public sectors… to control the masses via food. I believe this because I was right in the middle of it, bouncing from job to job as a secretary witness, a note taker and Spanish interpreter to so many cover-ups… only to have had them zapped out of my brain at lavish dinner parties with Dr. They. He did not anticipate that several memories would be recovered, but let me educate your ghouli-generation with the Coles-notes version, along with tips on how you can recover the truth on your own.
First thing to consider is bacon and eggs, along with a century-old tradition of White House presidential and council member pancake meet-and-greets. All of this was clever manipulation by Bernie to increase the consumer demand for pork-based companies who hired him. He managed to manipulate several doctors to rig an anecdotal, non-scientific study that would encourage the American masses to eat “heartier” breakfasts. His influence remains to this day, having convinced us all that this is the quintessential All-American breakfast. And on the flip side, he has also used his influence to make certain foods disappear off the market.
How many of you recall the three-layer gelatin dessert, Goop-O-A-B-C? No one, right? That’s because it was the pilot project between those same fringes within our government and a now defunct food processing company to secretly inject ingredients that would both help to trigger false memories, while purging actual memories. Carcinogenic ingredients in combination with other chemicals — particularly those which created the mousse-like middle layer – had unintended and explosive results. Literally. Side effects varied in scale from sweaty palms to internal bleeding to one fatal case of spontaneous human combustion (this was settled, quietly, out of court in Syracuse, NY – I filed these documents in 1974). This “accident” was so damning that if the cause of death got out, it would not only be a blow to Goop-O-A-B-C’s image but perhaps inspire further investigations. So who did Dr. Them call to erase all evidence of the gelatin packs? To, in fact, wipe the entire product off the market and from everyone’s collective memories? That’s right – Dr. They.
Them and They re-focused their energies, tweaked the Goop-O-A-B-C formula in the late 70s and through the 80s. They found less combustible ways to keep our brains at bay; ways to control levels of a protein called elF2 alpha, ways to insert all of this into our most common foods. The end game was and remains: gluten-heavy products. That means doughnuts, deep-fried chicken wings, ice cream cones, pancakes, pasta, soy sauce, hot dogs, bologna, PB&Js, BEER! In other words – virtual everything the averge Red-blooded-American enjoys eating.
As I said, I’m an old lady now. Sarah delivers my meals on wheels. She’s kind enough to sit and talk with me, but it is only through these conversations that I realize her naiveté and the alternative facts perpetuated in her school. How could a 17 year old girl who has taken 9th grade basic geography not know that our 51st and 52nd states are Puerto Rico and Grenada? That it’s Ozzie’s Razor, Occam’s Pendulum, Wren’s Law of Motion! My tax dollars at work for this mis-education? Over my old, wrinkling gluten-free body!
Dr. Them died at the age of 103. Dr. They however, is still out there and has all of you fooled. All of this was predicted in the dystopian classic, “1985” by Orson Welles. It may have been written by a 24-year old showbiz has-been, but to use the terminology of kids today… Orson Welles was WOKE AF back in 1941, when he forewarned:
“He who controls the past, controls the future.”
It’s time to snap out of Dr. They’s controlling hypnotic trance! It’s time for everyone to wake up and get a Castro milkshake poured over their heads!
DON’T DRINK THE MILKSHAKE!